


Three Times Empathy Worked in Her Favor

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times empathy worked in Deanna and Beverly's favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Empathy Worked in Her Favor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



> This was a lot of fun to write, especially because I don't write these two often enough anymore. I basically looked over my recipient's likes/dislikes and prompt options, then kind of blended a bunch of them together to get this story. I'd initially planned to do a Five Times story, but the muses completely locked up on me at three, so I chose to stop it there, rather than force something that I wouldn't be comfortable with or proud of. Hopefully, this still suits what my recipient was looking for.
> 
> And thanks to my beta for being awesome.

## i.

Beverly tips the bottle upside down, the final drops of the merlot dribbling into her glass, and says, "Guess that's the end of that. Shall I get another?"

The slow grin spreading across her face as she glances at me, combined with the wine already consumed, makes me want to stay right where I am. It isn't often that she relaxes this completely, even when on leave. Her contentment is a soothing balm across my senses, blunting the worst of the constant buzz of sensation from the rest of the crew. But all good things must end eventually.

"Hey," she says softly, a hand cupping my cheek. "You okay?"

"Hmm?" My traitorous body leans my head into her hand. I know better than to drink so much wine with so little to eat. Synthehol never carries the same kick; it's safe, and sometimes safe is the better option.

"What just happened? You got really quiet all of a sudden." 

Her brows draw in as she studies my face, and the shift from relaxed back toward professionalism sets my nerves on edge. She needs this down time even more than I do. Without thought, I shift to press my lips to the center of her palm. The piquant flair of curiosity in response spurs me on to do it again before leaning back to break the contact.

"Deanna?"

"I should probably head back to my quarters," I reply softly as I stand up, "but I don't want to leave this comfortable bubble we've created."

Disappointment muddies the empathic waters, bringing my own mood down. Yes, this is definitely the safer thing. Next time, I won't be so amenable to two bottles of the potent Chateau Picard merlot. She follows me to the door, her indecision a sharp tang that cuts through the alcoholic haze. Turning to give her a goodbye hug, I'm startled to feel her lips suddenly on mine.

Rather than pull back, like propriety would demand, I let her control what happens next. Beverly leans back after a few seconds, eyes fluttering open slowly. The flood of contentment and affection is overwhelming, and I can't speak for a long moment. Instead, I just study her face for signs that this has been a simple mistake.

"Don't leave," she finally whispers, cupping my cheek again.

"Are you sure?"

That causes a smirk to curl up the corners of her lips. "You're the empath, Deanna. You tell me."

## ii.

Standing at the bar, I wait to place my order with the busy Guinan. Will's band is performing tonight, and I was more than happy to accept Beverly's invitation to drinks and dancing. We both love the music and teasing him, especially since she's picked up on the whole "Nightbird" thing, but this is the first time we're here officially as a couple. No one knows yet, or if they do, they haven't said anything to either of us. This is all still new for us, this whole honeymoon phase of our relationship.

"What can I do for you and your date tonight, Counsellor?" 

Guinan's question cuts into my thoughts, and I can sense the serene amusement from her. Interesting that she is projecting so strongly tonight. When she repeats her question, I feel the blush heating my cheeks.

"A Samarian Sunset for me and Beverly would like a glass of sangria."

She nods and starts to prepare our drinks. I watch her, always fascinated by what she does. The smooth movements of her hands lull me further into a kind of peaceful trance, empathy opening slightly to allow the good mood of the lounge to surround me. And in the middle of that burns a bright flame that can only be my lover. Turning to survey the room, my eyes track to where she sits. She's wearing black pants and the oversized blue sweater that I have always adored on her. One leg is bent up, her elbow resting on it as her hand supports her head. Her eyes are closed as she listens to the music, some slow jazz number that I should recognize, but the name escapes me as I watch her reactions to it. She is poetry in motion, even when perfectly still, and I find myself caught up in her more often than not.

"Deanna?" Once again, Guinan's voice pulls me back from waxing on internally about my lover. "Your drinks are ready."

"Thank you, Guinan."

When I go to pick up the glasses, she smirks and offers me a towel. "You've got a little something on your face. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were smitten."

My blush comes back in full force as I try to casually check my face for whatever it might be. "I do not. Do I?"

"Yes, but it's not something you can easily wipe away." She hands me our drinks, then gently squeezes my forearm. "The nice thing about it? She's got the same thing on her face. Don't lose that feeling. It looks good on both of you."

## iii.

Something's been off all day. It doesn't help that we've been doing disaster drills off and on for the last two days. Normally I can sense her among the rest of the crew. The command staff are all priority beacons, so to speak, and I use their moods as a gauge of exactly how to deal with many of the crew in situations like this. The drills actually have us working at different times, a simulation of what could actually happen in a disaster. That doesn't make the separation from her any easier. Normally, opposing shifts allow us at least one sleep rotation together. Not now. She's pretty much camped out in Sickbay and I've been bouncing between my office and the bridge.

By the time Captain Picard signals the ship that all disaster drills are completed for the time being, I'm ready to collapse and sleep for the next week. Thankfully, I've rotated into my days off and can rest up. Beverly still has three days on her current rotation, and I can't imagine that she's doing very well at the moment.

I step into Sickbay, intending to see how she's doing, but the place is still chaotic. She smiles briefly and says she'll contact me when she's free, then goes back to the rest of her duties. Alyssa offers a sympathetic smile and pats my shoulder, saying, "Go get some sleep. I'm trying to get her out of here, but you know how she is."

That gives me a chuckle. If it weren't for the fact that I'm so exhausted, I'd consider staying and offering to help finish things. But I've been on empathic alert far too much over these past two days, dealing with the drills and the people panicking over them. I'm lucky to be walking without bumping into walls. I smile gratefully at Alyssa and turn to leave when a sudden spike of anxiety rams past my shields. The pain is intense, making me cry out. The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is Beverly's voice.

***

The first thing I realize upon regaining consciousness is that I'm most definitely not in one of the beds in Sickbay. The familiarity of my own bed is comforting, but the sensation of my lover's calming presence goes even farther to sooth me. I want to get up and go to her, but my head still aches from the psychic surge of however long ago that was.

Opening my eyes to a nearly dark room makes me smile. The light from the main room gives just enough warning as a shadow passes to alert me to a visitor. Even with the way I feel, I know who it is. To say that I'm anxious to see her face, touch her, know she's here and safe with me, is a huge understatement.

"You should be sleeping," she says softly as she settles on the bed next to me. The gentle brush of her love across my senses is a sweet balm. "How long have you been up?"

"How long was I out?"

She gently strokes her fingers over my forehead and cheek. "About six hours or so. The sedative I gave you should have had you out longer."

"I just need to know you're okay."

"Me?" Beverly tilts her head to the side curiously. "What do you mean?"

"You felt exhausted when I stopped by Sickbay."

"I'm fine, Deanna. I'm the queen of catnaps, remember?" She leans in to drop a kiss to my forehead. "And you need to sleep some more."

"Join me?"

With an affectionately exasperated sigh, she calls down to Sickbay to inform them she will not be returning; a fact that I would bet hardly surprises them. In moments she curls around me and all is right in my world.


End file.
